


Of Sweetness, Smiles and Secrets

by myria_chan



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M, Momo is beginning to be my official cock-blocker and ichiban shipper, mentions of Rei and the Iwatobi crew, semi-platonic-slash-are-you-dating-each-other-or-just-killing-us-with-emotional-cavities fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-13 00:34:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2130390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myria_chan/pseuds/myria_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spoilers for ES Episode 3 | In which distance is an irrelevant factor, Ai has the most beautifully animated smile, and Rin forgets that he rooms on the opposite side of the hall now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Sweetness, Smiles and Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> The new episode is less than half an hour away. Have more fluff people. Hopefully, I could be able to write something really romantic for these two dorks. Thanks for reading! Have a great day! Bless you! :D

* * *

Rin trudged back to the dormitories, footsteps heavier due to the extra hours spent on the pool waters. His sense of relief came from the fact that Rei was improving exponentially, given the sorry excuse of a swimmer he had been for the other strokes. It wasn’t like it was entirely his fault.

Nagisa once mentioned that newest addition to their swimming family transferred from the track and field club, which would explain the heavily developed leg muscles. Heavier muscles meant greater density underwater, thus greater sinking capacity.

The problem with Rei Ryuugazaki as a swimmer was that he was not build to be one, but that little nuisance could be easily remedied in a year or two, provided that  he continued swimming until he graduates.

Regardless, Rei’s an infinite mass of potential, with brains of technician and a natural hard worker; Rin could but smiled at the endless of possibilities he could unleash.

But right now, he would kill for a shower. The scent of lingering chlorine was beginning to permeate underneath his skin. Stepping by the threshold of his dorm room, he took note of the slipping light streams from the other side.

 _Ai_ must already be back.

That idea made him frown—the back of his head flashing warning signs about his supposed dilemma—what could possibly be wrong with Ai arriving on their door room earlier than him? It was late. He couldn’t recall Ai telling him that he’d be out later.

Odd; Rin’s frown deepened. There was definitely something wrong with his thought process, he just couldn’t put his finger on it. _Must be more tired than I thought,_ he resigned with a sigh, opening the door he opened a million times in the past.

“Welcome—!” there was a paused on the enthusiastic greeting from the foremost desk, before continuing with a startled, “Rin-senpai?”

Ai sounded more perturbed than anything else, which made Rin paused in removing his shoes. “Were you expecting someone?”

Ai’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he watched blue eyes cloud in contemplation. “Not… really?” he answered weakly, a hybrid between a direct answer and a question; Rin raised an eyebrow back and the warning signals at the back of his mind resurfaced.

What was it that seemed off about this scenario? Their room decors seemed to be intact, Ai’s desk was still a palpable mess, the earth had not shook from where he stood, and yet they stared at each other like they were not supposed to be staring at each other at all.

Closing the door behind him, he decided to invest all interest in uncovering the mystery once he’d gotten to bed—shuffled out of his shoes and placed them neatly on the shoe rack, ruffled Ai’s head as he passed by, dropped his sports bag within easy reach beside the bedframe, and jumped to the bottom bunk in muted glee, a sigh of relief escaping him when his back came in contact with the softness of his bed, like he always did.

Shower may just had to wait until tomorrow. Right now, he was in bliss—pure, comfortable bliss—he felt boneless against the mattress, digging deeper still to his most comfortable spot. He took a deep, long breath and prepared to doze off, until an unfamiliar scent of lavender caught his fancy. Eyebrows knitting, he sniffed once more, caught the trail of scent from directly behind him, peeled his eyes open and blinked, as he gaze face-to-face with Ai’s cat plushie.

Not even bothering to raise himself, he caught the disturbingly scented culprit and started the conversation of the evening. “How did Kuroo get into my bed?”

From his messy desk, Ai looked wary, head tilted sideways in that familiar inquisitive manner as he replied, “Senpai, that’s my bed now.”

Rin raised an eyebrow at that. “Have we changed sleeping arrangements?”

The moment those words were voiced, the red flags in his head ceased waving and truth pierced down like a thunderbolt—the fact that he and Ai were no longer roommates. Rin bolted into sitting position, his face a redder scarlet than his hair, and stammered his apology, “I am so—”

Whatever decency of his apology was cut short as Ai’s laughter filled the room with a musical crescendo. Rin gave him props for desperately pinning his amusement to a minimum, grumbling that old age and fatigue caused this little confusion on his part, and surrendered to the inanity of it, laughing away the insecurity.

“Sorry,” Rin reiterated, breathless and still slightly embarrassed, hand rubbing the back of his neck as he looked away. “Must have caught you off guard.”

“’s fine, senpai,” Ai reassured him, the receding remnants of mirth still present in his eyes and smile, “Everyone makes mistakes every now and then.”

Rin thanked him for that. If it was any other roommate, he would have to live it down. But Ai, who treasured their friendship and was loyal to their bond, would brush this little incident off like it never happened and never mention it again.

“What were you doing this late, senpai?” Ai inquired a little later.

There was period of their time spent together when he found that prying curiosity uncalled for and a pain in the ass. Now, Rin reveled in the idea that there was someone who unconditionally cared for him, who was willing to stand by him through all ups and downs, and his willingness to repay that unwarranted kindness in equal regard, even if it was just a little reply.

It was amazing how close they had been after a year together. The memory of their one-sided friendship seemed so far away, it felt almost unreal.

“Rei asked me to teach him various strokes,” he heard himself answer; “He wanted to say goodbye to butterfly, whatever that means.”

“Has he given you the cookies yet?” Ai opened his mouth to reply, but promptly closed it once he realized his mistake.

Frowning, Rin got up. “How did you know about the cookies?”

Rei had offered him the _confectionary perfections_ after this night’s session, as a token of gratitude for Rin’s hard work and dedication in training him. Encased in a violet box was an assortment of butterfly-shaped cookies, their sweet cinnamon scent emanating even with the lid tightly shut. It was thoughtful to say the least in an unnecessary way because Rin was not overly found of sweet things.  Still it was very rude to turn down one’s effort, so Rin accepted the offering.

The question was how Ai found about the cookies. Unless…

“You help him out, didn’t you?” Rin had him pinned down under scrutinizing gaze.

Ai simply laughed guiltily, swiveled his chair so he can face Rin properly. “I kinda let him into the school.”

“And?”

“Let him use our kitchen.”

“And?”

“Gave your diet chart so Ryuugazaki-san can properly assess which essential nutrients you lack in your diet.” Ai chuckled, hand rubbing the back of his head. “I’m very sorry. I know you don’t like sweets but Ryuugazaki-san held me against a good, logical argument. He can be very convincing if he wanted to be. Hazuki-san will be proud.”

“You…” The mere fact that Ai was talking about other people so casually had made Rin smile his sincerest. One of his concerns was that Ai seemed to cling to him a lot, following his every footstep, within his line of vision wherever he was. Rin was glad for Ai to be engaging in activities that didn’t include him. It was great chance for him to get to know himself better, to see his potential and capabilities, how he relate to different types of personalities, as extravagant and overwhelming they might all be.

Because as much as Rin liked the way Ai hang around him, he wished that Ai had a life outside of him.

Next year would bridge a wider gap to their relationship, and Rin didn’t want this incredible existence to dwindle just because his presence wasn’t around anymore.

“You hang out with my friends a whole lot, ya know.”  Rin rose and grabbed the other swivel chair in the room, dragged the strap of his sports bag as he propelled closer to Ai, pressed his chest on the backrest and leaned closer, meeting Ai’s eyes head on. He meant it as an observation and nothing more, though the tone he used was an intimidating sort to gauge Ai’s reaction.

Blue eyes were skittish under his scrutiny, but a merry chuckle signaled that he understood the context.  “They are nice lot to hang out with,” he replied, “You have good taste in friends, Rin-senpai.”

Rin grinned at that. There was always a compliment with Ai: fanciful flattery or adoring admiration, his habit crafted during the time Rin was insecure and guarded. Not that he needed constant assurance, no. He was over that.  But the way Ai gave his compliments made Rin want to try harder, want to be better—Rin’s version of token of gratitude.

What he carried on his back were more than his dreams. They were a collection of his loved ones’ support: unconditionally given, reinforced even at the time he didn’t deserve them, strengthened by their unyielding confidence for his talent and passion.

“I’m glad you see it that way.” Opening the lid of the box, the scent of sugared flour and cinnamon wafted in the air. Rin picked up two pieces, and extended one to Ai. “Have a cookie.”

Aiichirou purposely declined, rapidly shaking his head. It was surprising he didn’t give himself a headache. “Ryuugazaki-san made it especially for you,” his meek defiance. “It will be very rude.”

Rin snorted at that. “It’s just one cookie. I doubt he’d be offended if I share.” This was Rei Ryuugazaki they were talking about. That man lived for validation, positive or not. Such a bunch of needy extroverts he and his friends were, Rin deduced.

Ignoring all the strings of protests, he slipped one piece in Aiichirou’s hands, meeting said cookie with a toast of his own. “Cheers,” Rin acclaimed, before popping the whole cookie in his mouth.

The overwhelming flavor of saccharinity assaulted his under used taste buds, salivating in record speed to drown the intense sensation away. The sweetness felt all-too-consuming on his palate and sent pin pricks of sensations to the sides of his jaws; his eyes began to water. Rin was once again reminded why he disliked too much of the sweet things. “Dear God.” He felt like vomiting.

Ai began flustering, as if reading his mind. Scratch that—the look on Aiichirou’s face told him precisely that he was reading his mind. “There’s milk on the upper tier of the fridge,” he hastily said, making a move to get out of his seat and get the beguiling concoction for his senpai’s overloading senses.

Rin motioned him to sit still—he was not about to embarrass himself by hurling over a piece of cookie—wasting not another single precious second more, made a mad dash to the communal fridge by the bunk beds, grappled for the milk bottle, and drank its contents in half a minute time. His tongue made clicking noises as the sweetness washed away from his mouth and down his blood stream.

“That’s too sweet!” he complained out loud, much to Aiichirou’s amusement. “It’s not funny. Please tell me you’ve at least taste-tested that…” Rin glared accusingly at the cookie some more, letting his voice trail of before he could say anything offensive.

Aiichirou cackled at him. “Sorry. Ryuugazaki-san didn’t want me to ruin the _science_ of his creations so he had me sent out while he was mixing the batter. I did warn him about your low tolerance for sweets, if it meant anything. Is it really that bad?” Ai took a bite of his own cookie, crooned in approval as he munched the confectionary in pieces. Rin watched his eyes widened like huge saucers. “This is actually very yummy,” he remarked, and flashed a merry grin at Rin as he sang his gratitude. “Thanks for the treat, senpai.” By halfway through his left wing, Ai’s face crumpled in a cringe, the beginnings of the sweetness swamping over his features and senses.

“Milk?” It wasn’t his position to offer, but with the door open, why shouldn’t he? Aiichirou nodded nonetheless, and Rin tossed him a bottle. He smiled when the bottle was caught with ease, and tramped back to his chair.

He caught Aiichirou with that lopsided grin of his, the one that kicked on the corners of his mouth whenever he thought Rin wasn’t looking, the one that was reserved for Rin alone—directed on a partially consumed milk bottle as if it was the greatest miracle in the universe there was. Nowadays, he caught glimpses of it at swim practice, at crowded hallways where their gazes miraculously meet, or in the club room, before and after each session; trace and minimal compared of the thousands of instances that spoiled him from the previous year.

It had been a month since their new sleeping arrangements, and he—dare say it—was starting to feel deprived.

But it still had enough to compel Rin to smile back.

“What is it?” Rin teased, curious. Aiichirou shook his head as if it was nothing. But it was something, to Rin at least. “Come on, you can tell me.”

“It's just…” Aiichirou shrugged, unwinding the tension building on his shoulders. “Thank you,” he said simply, earnestly, and looked at Rin a bit more straightly than he usually did. “You’re still taking care of me even if we’re no longer roommates.”

Rin was taken aback. “I should say the same thing to you."

Aiichirou shook his head again. “But it’s different.” And then gave a smile that was expectedly sweet, much more sweeter than the butterfly cookies they just ate, but instead of twisting his stomach, a unexpected rush of warmth filled RIin

That smile told Rin that the world was better place for Ai now that he was around. He reached out, brushed the crumbs away from his lips.

He wanted to protect that smile with all his might.

“Nitori-senpai, I’m back!”

The door swung and collided to the wall with the exclamation, followed by the brightest personality Samezuka had the utter most fortune to enroll in its institution. Momo scanned the room momentarily, and beamed. “Oh, Rin-senpai, you’re here too!”

The magic was over.

“’Sup, Momo…” Rin greeted albeit halfheartedly back to their intruder—well, technically Rin was the intruder because this wasn’t his room— but Rin pulled away before anything further could be said, clamped the lid of his cookie box tight, placed it carefully inside his knapsack, slung said knapsack over his shoulder, ruffled Ai’s head one more time and said, “I’m leaving.”

Rin’s goodbye were as brisk as his movements, brushing past their resident firecracker, grabbing for his shoes from the rack, deciding on not to wear them to avoid any more delays. The sooner he left the room, the closer he would be to peace and tranquility. It was his heart’s desire to end the night in a good note—his silent prayer as he approached the door.

“Rin-senpai, you mistook our room for yours again, didn’t you?” It was more of an accusation than a statement, and Rin froze where he stood, dead on his tracks.

Maybe, if the gods and the universes were as benevolent as they seemed, Momo’s voice had just enough loudness for only the two of them to hear. Maybe Ai wasn’t paying attention. Maybe, just maybe, nobody cared at all at what Momo had said; they would all move on and pretend that simple sentence ever happened.

Rin wasn’t such a lucky person.

“This happened before?” asked Ai slowly, very slowly, as if absorbing every single detail, as if he wasn’t even believing he could string those three words together in that order and relate them to this situation.

_Ever._

Rin closed his eyes, preparing for the inevitable.

“Well yeah,” he heard Momotarou answer behind him; Rin wanted to throttle the youngster for the amount of confidence he had in his voice. “Once while you were out studying at the library. Twice while you were in the shower. Four times I found him dozing on your bed.” Silence filled the room, an uncomfortable one, spanning over the entirety of a minute, the proverbial pin might be heard if it were to drop that very instant.

His secret was out. Rin could feel the intensity of their eyes on the back of his head, wished they didn’t feel like they were boring holes at the back of his skull, begging him to turn around. He couldn’t turn around. Nobody would turn around after _that_.

God, were the Mikoshibas of this universe made so that they could torture him?

There was no greater plan than escape at this point. Still, he wanted to correct a tiny detail. “Five,” Rin muttered under his breath as he fiddled on the knob.

“What’s that, Rin-senpai?” It was Momotarou.

“It’s five times I slept on the bed,” Rin’s parting remark was a bit more forceful than necessary, slamming the door shut to hide the beginnings of a blush that was starting to rival the color of his hair.

He was never living this down.

(the end.)


End file.
